I am no expert but here is some suggested help on how to walk in Moscow (You will need legs and a sense of humor) and how to take your kid to school. If I'm very bored one day, I'll offer you my lucky reader other Moscow "how to's" later on in this blog. Walking in Moscow or using a pushchair (stroller) takes skill and a new
way of walking. The same applies for taking your kid or kids to
kindergarten or school. You will need to buckle up and be strong for
the battle ahead, here's how to do it from a non expert and SAHD.
The pavement sidewalk
Most, if not all
of the curbstones are uneven or high in Moscow streets, so you will need a pushchair with
large wheels (I'll use the word pushchair to mean stroller) if you can
install tank tracks to your pushchair, it may be better. When you
approach a pavement (I'll use the word pavement to mean sidewalk) raise
up the pushchair on its back wheels, like Evil Knievel so that you
bounce from the road onto the pavement, in one smooth easy jump. Once
baby and pushchair are safely on the pavement, your next objective is to
avoid the many large deposits of bodily spit that cover most of the
pavement areas. Doing so, will save time when you get home as if you keep
your pushchair inside your flat, you will have to wash the wheels or you
will cover your clean floor clean with sticky glob that may contain every unpleasant
disease. When pushing your kid along the pavement, keep one eye on the
floor and swerve around any spit you see with the skill of a formula one
driver. Spit covered wheels, ain't a pretty sight.
The pavements are also often used for parking. Russians, like big fuck off, fuck you cars. The bigger the better. These cars, often have black windows and look like small tanks. Dimitry, will mount the pavement at speed, while on his mobile and will be blind to a father, mother, dog or old person who may be walking along the pavement. People on pavements are a major pain for Russian drivers and should only be used for parking and spitting. When walking, please be careful. If your kid is walking with you, hold his or her hand and always have extra special eyes. Develop eyes that can rotate around your head or the head of an owl. Keep both eyes fixed ahead of you, down, up, to left and right and when walking. Don't worry dear reader, after a few weeks you will be skilled at Moscow pavement walking. In the winter, you will need to look up as well as ahead, down, left and right, as large icicles can fall from great heights and will tun you into a human popsicle.
Crossing the road
This is a vital stage in
surviving Moscow. Forget zebra crossings, they are on the roads but have
little meaning and little legality. They are there to annoy most
drivers and you are there to use them, to annoy most drivers, that is
your pedestrian function and your role. If you use them, you are preventing a driver
from reaching his or her destination by a minute and you should be shot
or deported. Approach the crossing with care and stop on the pavement edge.
When you see a driver approaching, make direct eye contact (or jump up and down and wave your arms like a mad person holding yellow flags) as you may be
interrupting his or her important phone call. Once the driver can see you
are waiting to cross the street, slowly inch out onto the zebra crossing
but only once they have actually stopped their car and can see you exist in their driver goggle world. Walk across the road,
in a confident manner, with your head held high (with a "fuck off" attitude in your eyes) while at all times, keeping one eye one
the driver and on the car behind him. It has been known, for cars behind
a car that has stopped at a zebra crossing, to get tired of waiting and
just go over the zebra crossing regardless if anyone, man, woman, child or dog is on it. Cross the road with speed and thank the gods when you
reach the other side safely, kiss your ass hello.
The same applies to traffic lights. Traffic
lights are there to annoy all drivers and should only be turned on and used at Christmas time. When crossing, give the driver a
direct "stop you stupid bastard" look as he or she is busy on the phone and may be unaware of you,
where they are, the time of day or even the city they are in. Make them
see you and not the inside of an ambulance ceiling.
You can use one of the many underpass
road crossings in Moscow. Some have ramps some don't. If you are a
mother, attractive and have large, round plump breasts, most men will help you
down or up the steps with your pushchair, while they keep both eyes fixed on your cleavage. If you an unattractive, ugly women
or stay at home dad like me, look pathetic, sad or injured and a person may
help you down or up the steps or simply ignore you as you grunt up the steps in pain.
Walking to school with your kid
Most
small kids don't like walking to school, what ever the country or city.
You can try to talk to your child before you leave home and tell him or
her to walk and that "daddy cannot carry you on his back for five
kilometres to school" and hope they listen to you. You can also take a
helicopter, sherpa, limousine, metro, bus or taxi to school. If you are lucky
enough to be able to walk to school, you can simply bribe your child to
walk by offering him or her sweets, money or a scooter, as a fun method
of transport to school. If you are brave, you can also use a scooter,
then you and your child can both bond and go to school together. Forget the looks
of amusement from pedestrians, as they see a large grown man, wobbling down the pavement on a tiny
scooter. As parents, we must suffer the slings and arrows of ridicule, as
we love our kids. To hell with what other people think of us, screw them. A word of
warning about small kids and scooters. Many small kids will know how to
use it but may not actually be looking where they are going on the
pavement. Be ready to apologize to countless old ladies and drunks as
your kid crashes into them on his happy way to school.
Decoat & descooter
Once
you have negotiated the Moscow roads, survived the spit, injured old
ladies and drunks, your next task is to enter the school and leave your
child safely with the over worked, underpaid teacher.
Descooter your child (tearing him or her off it screaming) before you reach
the main gates to avoid further casualties and enter the school area (the hell zone) and don't leave the scooter in the door way, it will be taken way and exploded by the school staff or stolen by the school security guard.
You will note, that there is usually only one door in and one door out to
all classrooms, as a result the doorway resembles the only life boat on the
titanic. Most schools were deigned by people who don't have kids, so keep this in mind as you gasp at the terrible ergonomics. Keep calm, take a Valium and sit down with your child outside and wait
for the door rush to calm down.
Most coat areas at schools for small kids are
very small. Parents have to get down on the floor, to decoat and undress their child for
school. This involves taking off their coat, hat and shoes. If its
winter in Moscow, you will need to peel your child like an onion and remove, ski
trousers, tights, boots, hats and gloves. You must do all of this with the soothing background noise of small children screaming and endure being kicked in the face by your
child and kicked in the back by other parents passing by you in the
corridor, as you undress your darling. There are a few ways you can avoid this stress. You can
undress your child outside in the snow, leave your child in his winter
clothes and send them into the classroom, hoping the teacher does not
see, or simply stay at home. When you say goodbye to your child, make sure
the teacher knows your child is with them and then run for the exit, light
up a cigarette or joint and relax until the next day arrives, alternatively, if you can't be bothered to collect them at home time, leave them there in a cupboard with a sandwich and torch.
Related stories: We like this site very funny dad photos.
© All Rights Reserved.
OK fans, I'm back to share more snippets of life here in
Moscow Russia. I can find some time, in between nappies to post an occasional
story.
Autumn, is a lovely time of year, even in a place like Russia,
where seasons change in a week. Red, yellow and brown leaves cover the
ground, in a carpet sent from nature. Sunday was a windy day. I jump on a
metro train to get some shopping. Three black girls sit next to me,
speaking in an unknown language that is almost as strange as Russian.
One girl has very blond hair, that makes a sharp contrast against her shinny, ebony skin. One girl has her thong poking out over the top of
her jeans, I look down at her bum as I can't avoid it. I see two large, wobbling, chocolate
cheeks, looking up at me, tempting me with whipped cream and a bite. Three middle aged Russian's sit opposite these
girls. They look across at them as if they have just beamed down from
another planet. There are increasing numbers of different ethnicity's
here in Moscow but to some, these people are still a novelty here, like the wheel once was to the ancient caveman.
Once
my shopping is done, I return to the metro, I walk past a dustbin on
fire. Ironically, Russians will spit on the floor but won't usually
throw their cigarette's on the floor. Instead, they thrown them into the
dustbins outside metro stations. A man casually stands by the dustbin,(trashcan) as red flames
and smoke, gently rises up into the air. No one looks worried or at all
surprised. I rush home for a walk with my family, it's late afternoon on
a grey Sunday afternoon.
We walk to a local Monastery. My big kid, happily
goes by us on his plastic scooter, while baby sits in his pram, with just his eyes showing through his blanket. We pick
our way through the muddy puddles and go through the gates, into the
Monastery. I leave my family outside and bound up the steps to the church,
to seek sanctuary from this crazy world. There is a service going on inside.
The air smells heavily of candles and a priest is chanting something, in
a low throaty tone, while a choir sings. Women bend their heads down and wear
head scarves, they mutter words of prayer, everyone attending the service is standing and knows the
routine, after years of practice at it. I stand outside the main area, looking
in through an open door, as I don't want to invade a private ritual and I am not a true
believer as they are. I love Russian churches. They are often beautiful
and peaceful places to visit. They are a welcome break from the business
and traffic of Moscow life. Russian priests wear ornate capes, with high
back collars that rise up behind their heads. I don't know why they have such
high backs? Maybe they contain holy water or are there to support their
heads in case they fall asleep in a service? One of life's unsolved and
rather unimportant questions. I also have a similar question about Russian police hats, that rise up, to look like Olympic ski jumps but enough said, I'm rambling again, on another track.
After a while, we leave the church and head back to the main street. It's beginning to rain lightly and it's
getting dark now. Winter is coming soon. My wife suggests a pizza and I
happily agree, as it's a chance to have a night off cooking. We know a
pizza restaurant near us, that is reasonably priced and the food is
fairly good. Eating out in Moscow; dear reader, is often a huge gamble, as
prices, service and quality, can often be bad to really awful. Before we enter
the restaurant, I bend down to meet my sons eye level and brief him, in a
strict army tone of voice, to be a good boy and ask him sit on the seat in the
restaurant. He says "yes dad" and we enter, I hope he will be good but I
know it's a gamble.
We order our food in Russian. I order an exotic duck salad
and spinach soup, my wife orders two pizzas and a basket of garlic bread to share. We
ask for the soup to come with the salad, to avoid waiting ages for a
second course. A word of warning, when eating out in Moscow. You may not
always get everything at the same time. Your dinning partner(s) may get
their starter or main course, while you wait for ages for your plate to arrive. You may both
order a dessert and one will arrive and the other will not. This drives
me crazy, so I try to take preventative steps when eating out in Moscow.
As expected and despite our explanatory, preventative steps with the waitress, my
wife's meal arrives, my son's meal arrives but no soup for me or knives and forks for any of us. I tell
them to start and not to wait for me. My soup eventually comes but no
garlic bread. We catch the waitresses attention and she goes to get the garlic
bread. Still no drinks. I get up and ask her for the drinks. They eventually come.
We ask for a bottle of water, a coke and three glasses. I drink my coke
but as soon as my glass is empty, the waitress takes it away from the table. I get up
and run after her to get my glass back for water, trying to keep calm. We finish our meal and
bravely order two desserts and three plates, so our son can share our desserts with us. The
waitress comes with two plates and only two spoons. Again, we wait for
her to wake up and ask each other, why we put ourselves through this ordeal of eating out here.
Despite he service, the meal is good. There is a table opposite us, with people
celebrating something. An old lady with white hair, suddenly gets up and in a shaky voice, begins
to sing a Russian song. At the table, they all sing with her. No one in the
restaurant stares or looks at all surprised by this free and spontaneous performance. She sings with a theatrical
style, some old Russian song of hardship and struggle. After one song, a
man at the table begins to sing another. His song sounds as sad as the
last, in fact every song they sing, sounds sad. They all sing along,
helping each other with the forgotten words, voices thick with emotion. We sit opposite them,
enjoying the free show. Everyone at the table looks sad, the old lady
and main singer, wipes a tear from her eye. I don't know what the songs
are about and they seem to come from a different Russia, to
the one we all know now. I think Russians are very sentimental about the
past. I don't know if this sentimentality is based on a real Russia or
on a propaganda Russia, but it's an interesting thing to
see, as you eat a pizza, on a cold grey Sunday afternoon. Suddenly, the singers all
promptly get up, in a choreographed fashion and leave their table, to put
their coats on. Our star, the old lady, bends down to look at our baby, while a man helps
her with her coat. Although Moscow drives me crazy, at times it offers
rare gems of eccentricity that are a joy to see.
We ask for the
waitress for the bill. After twenty minutes, it comes in duplicate. We
ask the manager why we have two bills and two credit card receipts? She
goes back to the till and speaks to our waitress and prints off another a new one. Again, be careful in
Moscow, as sometimes you can have your credit card swiped twice.
Despite
the awful service, we enjoy our food and our Sunday afternoon. We head
out into the street and make our way home to our new flat, with bellies full of good food and memories of sad, Russian songs.
Related stories: Best Posts
© All Rights Reserved.
Hello readers, its been some time since my last entry, as we have moved
home here in Moscow. Two men and a truck proved to be far cheaper than
any price from a professional moving company.
We had three professional estimates of
price, ranging from 800 euro to 2,000 euro, to move just 6 kilometres to a new flat. We
did our move ourselves for just 350 euro. I spent weeks frantically searching in dustbin
areas for cardboard boxes and packed up everything we owned into cardboard boxes. I
carefully wrote what was in each box and taped them up then when I unpacked them boxes labeled kitchen had bathroom stuff inside. Moving day came and two men, smelling heavily of garlic and old sweat, arrived to
carry our stuff. I helped them load up and we made hundreds of trips up and down,
in the old rattly lift, to load the truck up with all our worldly possessions. We moved flats, as the opportunity came up to take a
huge flat off a friend who left Moscow. The new flat is just 200 euro
more than our old one, our old flat was 75 sq our new one is about 120
sq. The reason for it's price, is that it has not had anything done to
it for 20 years. The kitchen looks like your grandmothers but everything
works and the location is the best you can find in Moscow. Having a large flat,
allows you to breath again and we are extremely lucky people. We are now outside the expatriate orbit and living with a more diverse population.
On another subject and my reason for this entry, is to say I have
spent over three years updating this blog as an experiment into creative writing.
It has had some popular success but updating it takes effort and inspiration and I have totally run out of gas.
Family life, now takes up most of my time and so I am unable to continue
with this blog for now. I will update it later on or when I leave Russia but we are
stuck in Russia for a few more years yet, so please be patient for me. I hope you find this blog
helpful and entertaining and that it provides a glimpse into the world
of a stay at home dad and expatriate life in Moscow. I will provide a full review of the good the bad and the ugly later.
You can scroll down
older posts via the blog archive on the right hand side of this page,
that goes back in time three years. If you have any questions or would like
to use any articles from this blog, please contact me and source my
copyright content. You can pay me for any writing or articles in the following currencies. Gold bars, uncut diamonds, euro (No Dollars), strawberry Jelly, buckets of Haagan-Dazs ice cream, curry, Chinese, Thia food or almost any chocolate (except rich dark). I also accept toys in the form of Lego, remote control helicopters, cars, scooters or any free Disneyland Paris day vouchers. If you want me to continue posting leave a comment saying so and I'll wave my fee.
I'll sign off for now dear reader and may the force be with you.
Happy reading.
Sponsored by: Bex beer, short, fat and slightly bitter.
© All Rights Reserved.
